Plaid Ties and Neon Lace

Every funeral.

Hands shaking, with fatigue and forbidden desire unsated, I raked the cooling sweat back from my face. Then the tears from my eyes. Sitting down on the dew-wet grass, I hugged my legs to my chest.

"Son? Are you alright?"

Looking up, my eyes found the source of the querulous voice. There seemed to be more wrinkles than skin in the woman's face. Then she smiled and all of those lines found their more permanent home. I took in small things at first, seeing the harmony of disharmony in her clothes choice. Mismatched patterns, flower prints that were washed till their colors were gone, the flowers faint memories of a bright past. I saw she was leaning on a silvery cane, lightly but with care.

"No. I'm not alright." She held out her hand and for a second I thought she was going to try and help me up, but then I realized she was sitting down next to me. "The grass is wet!"

"Young man, I promise you my butt has been wet before." With a low moan of arthritic pain, she settled herself next to me. "So, what's got your bread unbuttered?"

Resting my chin on my hands, which were atop my knees, I shrugged. "I'm about to screw my life up royally."

The old lady crossed her palms over her cane and rested her head on the back of her aged hands, looking at me sideways. "Are you sure you're not exaggerating matters?"

"Nope, I'm about to flush it all away." Sighing I looked away from her and back out at the still waters of the park. "A decade plus of sobriety and living clean and I'm just tossing it all into a wood chipper."

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't really know why, but I guess-" She laid a hand on my arm stopping me.

"Not why you're about to change your life, but why did you spend a decade sober? Seems like a miserable waste of good years."

Looking over at her surprised, I shrugged. "I had to clean out or die. I was at rock bottom and had buried too many friends. There were a lot of reasons."

For a moment the old woman just looked at me, taking in every curve of my face. Then she reached over and took my hand. "Well, I've got a rock in my bottom and I've buried all my friends, so I can relate. But, let me ask you this ... did you have fun back then?"

I felt like I had to answer honestly. Looking down at her hand, with its paper thin skin, I nodded. "Yeah. It was a hell of a wild ride."

"And do you think that you have grown up some since then? You're not as young as you used to be, right? Not the party-till-you-puke teen anymore?"

"Well, yeah, I'm past the Big Four-O now." I shrugged. "Can't say I'm as spry as I was ten years ago."

The look she gave me was priceless.

"Oh, ten years ago? When you were better than half my age?" She lightly popped my hand. "Hell, you're still almost half my age! Now, help me up, my butt is getting numb."

Getting to my feet, I offered her my hand and took her elbow to steady her as she rose. Once she was up she settled her clothes, placed her cane firmly, and looked me in the eyes.

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to give you advice, whether you want it or not. I've had more than my share of encounters with things I shouldn't do. Drugs, alcohol, and sex once ruled my life." She grinned at me then threw me a wink. "And I have to say, looking back on that time from now, here ... in my twilight years." Again she winked. "I would not do a thing differently."

For a moment I stood there not sure what to say. "So, no regrets?"

"A few, but not for things I did. Only for the things that I was too cowardly to do." Her wrinkled surrounded eyes narrowed. "If I was ten years younger I would seduce you. Still tempted but now a day in my garden reading a favorite book is about as enjoyable as sex. Less disappointments."

I nodded and then grinned. "I would have taken you up on that offer and hoped I wouldn't have disappointed."

"I could still curl your toes. Count on it," she said in a flirty chuckle. "Go on now. Go make your mistakes, young man. Make them with eyes open and a smile."

With a nod, I took a deep breath. "Thank you."

She just smiled and watched me walk back to the jogging track. My tired muscles protested till I pushed past that pain. As I circled the lake I watched her make her way back to the bus stop and sit there. I was crossing over the street to head home when she stood up and got on her bus and rode away.

Drenched in sweat, but clear of mind, I walked the last few blocks to my building.

** ** ** ** ** **

My legs, hips, and ass encased in leather, I stood before the mirror feeling alive again. It was the long mirror on the back of my bedroom door that I have used for years to check my suit before heading off to work. Making sure that my office costume said I was powerful. That I was a climber, that I was a hungry person by nature, who would give a hundred and ten percent to make the company a better business than when I had been hired. Taking a deep breath the abs rippled across a stomach that I had fought to washboard flat in a gym for years.

But there was gray in the hairs on my chest.

Flexing the muscles, I watched the old tattoos rippled on my skin. There was a sudden desire for new ink. How many years had it been since I felt the scratch on my skin? Too long.

My clothing choice tonight was similar to the last rave, but the color palette differed. Tonight I was going to be the shadow walking among the neon flowers. Black as midnight from head to heel. But I was not going to be bland, oh no. I was a showcase of textures. My shirt was shiny sateen, my pants leather of course; my brocade waistcoat vest was an ebony velveteen-covered in silver-metallic embroidery that hinted at Celtic patterns or maybe dragons. The boots I had shined to a high gloss, making them look new despite the decades of use, abuse, and then disuse.

Tonight I was going to toss Jim to the side. And most assuredly "Jimbo"

Nos.

Sliding my dozens of bangle bracelets up my arms, I saw the man I was quickly becoming, and smiled remembering me as I had been. Across all my fingers I slid rings. Heavy square rings that had been handy in many a mosh pit brawl. Skulls, iron crosses, and the silver ankh. I flexed my hands feeling the odd but familiar weight.

Seeing my phone vibrate on the nearby chest drawers, I moved to it guessing who would be calling me.

"Hello, Abigail."

"HI! Was just calling to make sure you're still coming?"

"Be out my door in a few minutes, lovely," I said.

"Great! Ah, I've got a head start on you. I'm almost there. I'll be-"

I snapped out an interruption. "Wait for me. If you would? Don't go in alone."

"Um, yeah sure I guess." There was an uncertainty in her voice but also a hint of relief. "There is a Starbucks a block away, I'll be there getting my caffeine buzz going."

"I'll be there soon."

"Bye."

Pocketing my phone, I moved to the kitchen, opened a can of cat food and then knelt and scratched the chin of my little Huntress. With a purr, Éponine nuzzled my hand.

"Will be back late, you little fiend. Be mindful of me when I arrive, I might be drunk. I might step on you. You remember those days from when you were a kitten, right? Yeah ..." Slicking back her fur, I felt the self-deprecating smile grace my lips. "Even if I don't remember them too well."

Leaving her with her bowl of food, I headed to the next chapter in my life.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

The old weed and the blue neon chrysanthemum. That was the image that came to my mind as I gather up the young woman, with her gallon mug of triple mocha caramel latte foamed bouncy juice. She was already more hyper than two people had a right to be. Her excitement was infectious and, by the time we walked into the club, I was getting that way myself by contact high.

The music was synthetic. Blended, mixed like a cocktail, put to a dance rhythm and then sent out at chest-hammering levels of sound. Head nodding stuff. It gave energy to the dozens of people already there.

And yes, I was the shadow among the flowers.

Abigail was hailed by a dozen sources. People who gave me a few odd looks as they rushed up to hug the blue child.

And blue Abigail certainly was.

Like Gainsborough's painting, she was a splash of cool color in a hot sea of bright reds, yellows, and pinks. I also saw that she was the spark, or maybe one among many, for this rave. The place seemed to step up a notch the moment she took to the dance floor. And there she, as she had said, came alive. I stood to one side watching my boss's daughter move in ways that would have given her father a stroke. Abigail ground up against others, touching and being touched. She would smile at every face, matching grin for grin, wink for wink.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Looking down I found that one of the red flowers was looking at me with apprehensive appreciation. Almost as if she was afraid I would bite.

With a smile that was pure lusty flirt and relaxed her, I nodded.

"Sure"

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Hours rolled past in a variety of ways. Some flew others crawled. The music changed but didn't. All the sounds were too similar to notice subtle differences. It was alive and it moved through cycles, phases. Heavy pulsing beats. Waves that rolled past to make the whole world seem to drift. Sharp jabbing points of sound that spiked the mind like an ice pick.

I was drunk.

Well, buzzed. I was also a bit high. Wandering into the back looking for a bathroom I had come across a circle of sexy ladies passing a blown glass bong pipe. They had pulled me in and with cajoling laughter involved me. I would be lying if I said I didn't want it to happen. That first taste of smoke was a shattering of chains I had fastened around my own self. A throwing off of a hated suit of ill-fitting clothes, that I had never been comfortable in. And oh how wonderful I felt when the drug took hold and eased its way into my mind.

But ... I turned down the pills.

They were all there, of course. Ecstasy. Pellets of mescaline. Uppers, Downers, Screamers, Laughers. Hell, toss in some Amyls and a pint of raw ether and Raoul Duke would have felt right at home. I should have felt right at home myself. I should have tossed them back with a blind lack of care that would have made Jim Morrison look pharmaceutically timid. But ... I didn't.

True, I drank like a fish. I'm not a saint and never have made claims of that. And as the night rolled past claims to sainthood would have been hypocritical of me. Maybe it was my maturity, or possibly the confident air that age lends, but I was a magnet to the women in rave. They seemed to flock to my side. Offers of drinks and more enjoyable things were common. Enjoyably common.

And Abigail began to plaster herself to my side once that started. Jealousy? She would have denied it if I had been foolish enough to mention it. But I didn't, I wasn't that drunk.

I was drunk enough to see her as beautiful.

Abigail was a stupendously sexy young woman, and it wasn't just Jägermeister goggles making me see that. Her face was reminiscent of Greek sculpture, the skin porcelain. And her body was alluring, teasing, taunting. A dark part of me was trying to chide the rest that I'd missed an opportunity to see that body in all its glory, but I ignored that part.

Well, I tried to anyway. Not the easiest thing to do when you have a lithe twenty-something glued to the side of your body like she's Velcro.

"Nos?"

"Yes?" Looking down into her eyes, I saw the familiar haze that I instantly recognized from last weekend. "Stoned again, little one?'

"Yep. I took some ... some ... they were yellow." She gave me a smile that told me that color made it all happy in her world.

"Yellow, huh? Did they have anything on them?"

"Ah ... fours. And one had a 'P' on one side."

Bringing my hand up, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "No lovely, they all had a 'P' on them. Back in my day, we called them Dillies. They have a four on one side and there is a 'P' on the other." I shook my head and looked at her euphoria ridden eyes. "You never want to play with the harmless drugs do you?"

"Oh, don't be a party-pooper. These are great!"

"Oh, yeah." I chuckled and gave her a tired grin. "I know. I've eaten them like popcorn."

"Then why are you being such a downer?"

"Ask me that again tomorrow when dust on your nail polish is making you cry." Lifting my drink to my lips, I gave her a simple salute before I took a sip of the dark, evil licorice liquor. "In vino veritas. Pace requiescat."

For a moment she stood looking at me then stood on her toes to speak into my ear as the music swelled louder. "Nos, you are one weird fucking guy."

I nodded to the truth of that.

With an appreciative smile, I watched the curves of her ass-hugged tight in stretchy blue leggings, under the short lace skirt she wore. A desire to take a nibbling bite of that ass came making me grin. "Carpe diem, old fiend."

Tossing back the last of my drink, I went out onto the dance floor to join her in a fully body grinding song. I hated the blandness of the song but loved the feeling of her against me. From the look in her eyes, Abigail seemed to enjoy the same thing. Her hands took hold of my black waistcoat, pulling me closer. Taking my own advice,

I decided to seize the day.

Abigail's lips were sweet and her kiss teasing. My hands on her hips, I pulled her to me and her hands in my hair did the same. She tended to smile when she kissed, as if she found someone being willing to kiss her to be funny. But as we kissed her smiles turned to as hotter passion and she began to tug at me, pulling me. Together we moved off the dance floor, people parting for us, often in laughter. There were several patting hands on my back. Then we were out the crowd, and Abigail broke the kiss and tugged my arm towards a shadowed hallway.

"Come on, Nos." She pushed open a curtain then grinned up at me. I saw it was the very room I had 'rescued' her from last week. "Show a girl a good time."

Memories of those guys trying to strip her out of her clothes warred with my own desires to do the same. Was I then no better than they? If I followed my lust here I was certainly taking equal advantage of a drugged woman. I hesitated but then her hands curled up in the lapels of my vest.

"There won't be any regrets." Her mouth came up to mine, stopping just before our lips touched. "I know what I want. You." A soft kiss, mostly breath and butterfly wings, touched my lips. "And this."

That was the tipping point for me. Even if I woke up tomorrow feeling like a pig for doing this, I wanted this young woman. Wanted her the way a drowning man wants air.

She giggled when I tumbled us both onto the bed. Then her hands went after my buttons, opening my silvery-black vest and then attacking my belt to get my pants out the way. I was in a war with her clothes myself. Her blouse had vanished at some point but I was struggling to unhook what I belatedly realized was a pullover sports bra. Abigail's flirty ripple of laughter at that was teasing. I made her gasp by stripping her ass of those blue leggings. I reached under that lace skirt, hooked the stretchy blue cloth and had it to her knees before she knew what I was about. Not that she was protesting.

A small hand liberated my cock from its leather Château d'If and curled around me, testing my hardness with a squeeze.

"Mmm, someone is eager."

"Um, huh."

Outside our little-secluded room the rave powered on in techno neon glory but within there we were miles away from it. Lips entangled in a ravenous shared greed. Abigail, naked from the midriff down, she rubbed her bare thighs on the leather of my pants. Her hand between us was stroking me, thumb down, fingers curling in a silky skin ripple.

"Now." Her mouth moved to my chin and she let her teeth drag the skin. "Please now."

While she kissed and nibbled my neck, I picked her hips up and she settled herself down onto me. That delightful hand, that had tugged me to a painful hardness, guided me into that delightful warmth that I've not been within in a long time, too long. With a wiggle of her hips, she settled herself letting me slide into her completely.

"Oh, yes." Abigail grinned at me. "Nice and stuffed."

I smiled back then moaned as she began to ride me. Leaning back, I cupped her small breasts, teasing the nipples, enjoying the look on her face as she pleasured herself on my cock. The so very tight grip of her young body on the length of me was a sucking massage as she ground her faster and faster.

"Nos?"

Looking into her face, I smiled at the raw lust there. "Yeah, lovely?"

"I feel like I could do this all night."

I made myself pulse inside her causing her to moan. "Well, I'm in no hurry."

"No, I mean like it will take all night for me to cum."

Sitting up I pulled Abigail to me, my mouth kissing her throat as her breasts rubbed on the soft sateen of my shirt. I knew this new position was making her clit rub at the base of my cock harder. Her deep moan told me that as well. I knew of course what she was talking about. The Dillies she had taken had numbed her in more ways than one. The poor blue-haired lass was caught in an orgasm-blocking trap of her own making. With a roll, I eased us over till she was on her back. Looking down into her eyes, I gave Abigail a hard thrust. Her mouth flashed open and those startled eyes went wide.

"Better?"

Her eager nod and those lust-filled moans were the only spurs I needed.

Catching her slim thigh with my elbow, I pulled her more open and then, with a mercilessness possibly driven by years of abstinence or maybe the alcohol I'd had earlier, began to try and break this young thing. Or, given the age differences more likely myself. Whichever came first I decided, either way, one of us would exit this room happily broken.

That Abigail lifted her hips off the bed to meet my hardest thrusts, throwing her clenching pussy at my cock, meeting me thrust for thrust felt incredible. Her mouth was open in a continual moan, the thunderous rave music alone robbing her screams of their volume. I, on the other hand, was in need of all my jogger's endurance to get a single breath between my own grunts and moans.

"Nos, oh my ... oh yes ... more, oh yes please more."

With her encouraging words by my ear, I fed the last of my need into the sex furnace burning between us. Abigail's hands were under the sateen shirt clawing stinking lines down my back, the pain a pleasure in and of itself. "I'm close." I breathed to her in warning.

"Cum in me, I'm on the pill. I want your cum in me."

That was all it took.

And apparently, my orgasm was what she needed to tip her over the edge herself. A gasped breath and then the cutest sound I have ever heard in my life rose up out of her mouth. A catlike deep-throated purr, that I felt as a muscle vibration ripple along the wet skin of my cock, and her throat vibrated with a mixed-up sound that reminded me of nothing if not the Cadbury Bunny commercial. "Bock meow, bock meow."

The surprised look on my face must have been comical.

Abigail gave my side a pop. "Don't laugh at me, I can't help it. That's just what I sound like!"

With a chuckle I could not help, I pulled myself from her and lay down next to her side. She stuck her tongue out at me then snuggled into me.

"It's not funny."

"No, it's not, it's delightful, I love it." I grinned at her suspicious look. "Honestly, it just surprised me. I want to hear you do that over and over. It's sexy, unique and wonderfully cute." I leaned those few inches and placed a kiss on her lips then buried my face in her overly hair product filled blue hair. "Like you."

"Flattery might get you lucky with me. I might put out like a two dollar whore to a man who can give me compliments." She grinned at me. "Hell, I might even kiss you on the second date."